


Surprise

by msred



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, Future, Legs, NYC - Freeform, New York, first, plaid, pull, visit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msred/pseuds/msred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's not really his girlfriend and he's not really her boyfriend. But they've got a good thing going. And some nights it's really, really good.</p><p>Written for Porn Battle XIV. Prompt words are: future, New York, legs, plaid, pull, NYC, visit, first</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [(Not So) Perfect Timing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/559272) by [msred](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msred/pseuds/msred). 



> This is by far the dirtiest thing I've ever written. Much of the writing took place with me on my couch, alone, blushing. As always, comments, including constructive criticism and welcome and appreciated, but please don't be mean. I'm vulnerable here!
> 
> In my head, this is kinda-sorta a follow-up/continuation to '(Not So) Perfect Timing.'

He guesses he should probably wonder how he got here or whatever, he _knows_ other people do, but fuck that. ‘Cause _here_ is a studio apartment in Bushwick with curtains for walls, sleeping most nights between Easter egg colored sheets, and between Rachel Berry’s legs regularly. And he’s been _here_ for a few months now. So he’s not gonna waste time questioning when he could just be enjoying. And enjoy he does. Nearly every night. And a lot of mornings. And even some afternoons, here and there. God, he loves the afternoons.

He also knows that he (they) should really be sleeping. They’ve got a relatively early flight back to Ohio in the morning, which means Kurt will fly in screeching about “My eyes!” and “Put some clothes on, Puckerman!” at the ass crack of dawn. But you know what? Fuck that too. Because Rachel Berry? Sleeps naked. Yeah, he was pretty surprised too. Mostly because, well, she’s Rachel Berry (although he quickly learned that there are a lot of differences – good ones, like her being way more chill than he’d ever realized most of the time – between the girl he thought he knew in high school and the woman he’s been discovering over the past few months), but also ‘cause she owns more pajamas than he’s ever seen outside of like, a pajama store, or something. Everything from little cotton shorts or pants with matching tank tops to the real deal flannel button-down business to these lacy little slips she calls nightgowns but he just calls sexy as all fucking hell.  But she just puts those things on right after dinner to traipse around the apartment or do homework or sit on the couch and watch reality tv shit with Kurt (all except the lacy ones, those are only for when Kurt’s not around and it’s just the two of them). Then right before she slips between the sheets, she strips down and either drops the pjs into the hamper or folds them neatly and slides ‘em back into the second drawer of her dresser.

Most of the nights he stays over (which is most nights, period, since the only half-decent apartment he can actually afford comes fully equipped with a weirdo roommate who’d prob’ly be best friends with Jacob Ben Israel or something) he gets to just lay back against the pillows and watch that happen, which is sweet. Tonight though, tonight’s not so bad either.  Tonight he worked the closing shift at the bar and it’s so late when he lets himself in with the key Kurt and Rachel fought over giving him (and he doesn’t blame Kurt for being hesitant, really, he knows what it’s like to value your own space – wanting to have at least his own room to retreat to now and then is the main reason he even still has the just-barely-better-than-shitty apartment with the creepy roommate instead of just shacking up at Kurt and Rachel’s place) that he can hear Kurt’s light snoring and that stupid noisemaker he has as soon as he opens the door. He’s as quiet as he can be as he kicks off his shoes and pads across the living area to slip between the curtains marking off Rachel’s ‘room.’ It totally pays off, too, because once he’s pulled the curtain closed again and turned to make his way to the bed, he sees her there, just enough light coming in from the street that he can make out every curve.

It’s clear that she was trying to wait for him. She’s not even all the way under the covers. Instead she’s on top of the comforter on her back, her head turned to one side with a hand resting on the pillow by her face and the other rising and falling with her breaths on top of her stomach. The little handmade afghan she keeps at the foot of the bed is pulled over her legs and up to just above her belly button. He stands still for a minute and just stares at her. His eyes skim over her from the top of her head down to the one toe that’s just peeking out from under the blanket then back up until they land on her boobs. He’s seen them so many times by this point that it’s almost ridiculous that he still spends so much time looking at them. Doesn’t mean he plans to stop any time soon, though. They’re perfect.

No, really. They are. Like, they’re definitely the smallest of any girl he’s ever been with, and he was kinda shocked to realize how okay with that he was. More than okay, actually. Because he learned pretty much right away that he could cup one perfectly in his hand, his palm closing over the pebbled brown nipple and his thumb running lazy lines along the sensitive skin of the valley between them, pulling deep breaths and sighs and contented little grins out of her with every touch. Then, there’s the added benefit of her not having to wear a bra all the time. He’s pretty sure other people, people who don’t spend as much time looking at her boobs as he does, probably don’t even notice, but he always knows right away. And he always makes it a point to brush across one or both of them on those days, usually with his forearm while ‘reaching’ for something, just to watch her nipples go hard beneath the fabric of whatever top she’s wearing. Her skin’s perfect too. All her skin is perfect, not just on her boobs, but ya know, he tends to care more about the skin there than on, say … well, okay, it’s hard to think of something, actually, because he’s pretty equal opportunity when it comes to the attention he pays to her body, but still. The soft, smooth, almost glowing skin that feels almost like silk under his fingertips and never fails to taste sweet on his tongue is just one more reason he can’t ever find it in himself to look away when her boobs are just right there, out in the open for him to look at.

He doesn’t take his eyes off her as he pulls his phone and wallet from his pocket and sets them, along with the keys still in his hand, as quietly as possible on the shorter of the two dressers in the space. He’s definitely planning on waking her up, but he wants to do it in his own time, _his_ way, not with the jangling of keys or the thump of his phone dropping onto the wood. He peels off his t-shirt, socks, and jeans, and drops them into a pile by the dresser. He’ll just need to make sure to get them picked up before she really has a chance to notice them in the morning. He doesn’t bother with his briefs; he’s slightly aware that there’s a small chance she won’t be down for anything more than actually sleeping since it’s late and they have a plane to catch in the morning, and the cotton barrier is his own little way of trying to show that he’s not going to like, push or whatever. (He’s not too worried about that, though, because hell, she’s asleep, naked, on _top_ of her covers; he’s pretty sure she had plans of her own for when he got there.)

The whole apartment’s not much bigger than the choir room back at McKinley, so her ‘bedroom’ is roughly the size of a Cracker Jack box and he’s at the foot of the bed in only two steps. He pushes himself up onto it on his knees then makes his way up her body, one arm and leg on either side of her, on his hands and knees. He stops and lowers himself enough to kiss the first bare skin he comes to, which happens to be the back of the hand resting on her belly. He keeps moving up, slower now, dropping soft, just barely open-mouthed kisses to her skin as he goes. He feels her breathing change – the deep, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest interrupted by a sharp stutter that’s followed by faster, shallower breaths – when he presses his lips against her between those two perfect boobs.  When he reaches the base of her throat he feels her hand lift from her own stomach and brush across his before she pulls it from between them to rest it on his side just above his hip bone.

“Hey,” he breathes against her just after he scrapes his teeth along her collarbone. Girl had been a biter since day one, since high school even, and it didn’t take him long to decide turnabout was fair play. He gives as good as he gets, and she loves it.

“Hi.” The sound is breathy and a little hollow, barely even a word. She was expecting him, obviously, but not like this, and he’s taken her by surprise.

“I like this,” he tells her as he kisses his way up the side of her neck, not really allowing her to turn her head from where it rests on the pillow. “S’a nice thing to come home to.” He says stuff like that a lot, but they both just let it go. He knows it’s not his home, and he doesn’t plan on it being (he doesn’t even know what they are, really, but he knows neither of them is doing _this_ with anyone else, and they’re both really happy right now, and she hasn’t asked him to define anything beyond that, so he’s cool to just let it ride), but this is where he pretty much always ends up after work.

“I was waiting for you. I wanted to -,” she stops when he closes his teeth around her earlobe and flicks it a little with his tongue. He smirks around it and she doesn’t go on until he’s pulled back just enough to release her. “I wanted to surprise you, but you distracted me.”

“ _I_ distracted _you_?” He presses his hips against the top of her thigh just enough to make his point.

She nods and doesn’t say anything for a second. “Mmhmm,” she finally manages to hum. “You kept texting me.”

“Slow night,” he tells her as he slides one hand under her back to rest between her shoulder blades and shifts his weight a little to the other side, lowering himself over her in the process. He wasn’t even sending her dirty texts or anything. He was just bored and talking to her is always fun.

“Yes, well,” she lets out a long breath when his tongue darts out to trace along the skin behind her ear. He almost wants to laugh because he can tell she wants to be pissed that he keeps interrupting her. That’s not gonna happen though and he knows it, ‘cause they both know he’s just working her up right now, and they also both know how good he’s gonna make her feel later. “I got happy and comfortable here on the bed talking to you, and it seems that I managed to doze off instead of being awake and alert enough to properly greet you with your surprise.”

“I like surprises,” he murmurs against the skin of her jaw as he starts to work his way up onto her cheek and toward her mouth. He uses the hand behind her back to pull her against him. He loves the feeling of her skin pressed against his, and she’s not quite close enough for that just yet.

“No you don’t.” He can feel her smirking under his kisses.

“You’re right,” he kisses the tip of her nose just because he knows she’s not expecting it, “I don’t. But I have a feeling I’m gonna like this one.”

Rachel lifts her head off the pillow for the first time, just enough to kiss him while her hand snakes around onto his back. She digs her nails in just enough for him to feel it and drags them down his spine as her tongue teases at his lips. He opens his mouth for her at the same time that her hand reaches the waistband of his underwear, then his eyes snap open because she just stops. And not just that, but she drops her head and her hand back to the bed so she’s not touching him at all. “Well,” she grins, and the look in her eyes is half lust, half challenge. “Do you want your surprise or not?”

“Honestly, I’m kinda leanin’ towards ‘not,’ if the surprise means I gotta stop kissin’ ya.” He leans back in to pick up where she’d so coldly left off, but she stops him with a hand to his chest. “Seriously?”

“Only for a moment,” she pushes against him and though she can’t _actually_ move him, he falls onto his side next to her anyway. “And I promise, it will be worth it.”

Rachel Berry doesn’t make promises she doesn’t keep, so he flops onto his back and laces his hands together behind his head. “Let’s have it then.”

For just a second he swears that he sees something like worry, maybe even insecurity, in her eyes as he gazes back at her. But just as quickly as he notices it, it’s gone, replaced by a look that’s mischievous and playful and maybe even just a little bit predatory. She’s definitely got something up her sleeve (if, ya know, she was actually wearing any) and he’s excited – _all_ of him – to see what it is.

She’s biting her lip, white teeth digging into pink flesh, as she scoots away from him toward the other side of the bed. She pulls the afghan with her, holding onto it even as she stands so that it falls like a curtain and continues to cover her from the waist down. He wonders what the hell she’s doing, until her hands release the blanket and fall to her hips as the blanket drops to the floor. And with nothing blocking the view, he sees something he didn’t think even existed, which is something hotter than a naked Rachel. That’s a Rachel wearing nothing but a pleated, plaid skirt that’s so short he swears all he has to do is tilt his head down just an inch or two and he’ll be staring straight at the Promised Land.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes, and the little smirk pulling at her lips tells him that it sounded as much like a prayer to her ears as it did to his own.

“Good?”

“You fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” He pushes himself up so that he’s half-sitting, propped on his elbows, and tracks her movements as she climbs onto the bed and walks across it on her knees. She doesn’t stop until she’s right next to him, and he falls back again so he can lift his hands to her hips to steady her when she lifts one leg and slings it over his lap until she’s straddling his thighs. He stares up at her while his hands slide slowly down the outsides of her thighs and come to rest on the bed, and _damn_ , yeah, he likes surprises now. “What the hell brought this on?” She lifts one eyebrow and smirks back at him – a smirk he’s sure she stole from him – and that’s another difference between the Rachel he gets to have now and the old one. High school Rachel would have gotten all insecure and asked him if he had a problem with it. New York Rachel knows how sexy she is, and he makes sure to remind her on the regular in case she even starts to forget (because that other girl is still in there, which is awesome a lot of the time, but not when it makes her question herself), plus she can read him well enough to know that there is abso-fucking-lutely _nothing_ wrong with _any_ of this.

“Well,” her eyes bore into his and he swears she’s trying to kill him because one of her hands slides off her hip and down the side of the skirt to play with the hem. “You frequently lament that you never got to, and I quote, get your hands under any of my damn skirts in high school. I can’t take us back to high school, but I can give you the opportunity to put your hands, and other things,” he moans a little because that’s a fucking awesome image, “under _this_ skirt. My original plan was actually to show it to you for the first time,” (first? Fuck yeah!) “once we get back to Lima, but when I thought about the logistical complications that might present themselves due to us being surrounded by so many family members and old friends, I altered the plan. I know that you’re not exactly excited about going back, even for a week, so I thought maybe this would warm you up to the idea.”

Yeah. He’s warm. He’s fucking scorching, actually. She’s still just hovering over him, her knees pressed into the bed beside his thighs, while one of her hands plays with the bottom of that fucking roughly four-inch-long skirt while the other bends up to rest lightly at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He’s guessing she didn’t really know what to do with that one, but there’s something hot about right where she has it.

“You didn’t actually _wear_ this in high school, right?” And that’s actually really important to him right now. Because he definitely remembers the ones she wore then being short, sometimes torturously so, but if those douches ever got to see her in _this_ , he’s gonna have to spend his whole trip back to Lima kicking ass.

“Nope.” She shakes her head and loose chestnut curls swirl around her shoulders. “Ordered this one especially for you.”

Holy fuck. That makes it even hotter. “Well then I guess I better start enjoyin’ it, huh?” He lifts his hands from where they’ve been resting beside her knees, mostly because he was too dazed to do much else with them. He slides them up the outsides of her thighs, his fingertips pressing into the silky flesh at the backs of her legs and his thumbs dancing over the front. He stops when he hits the bottom of the skirt (and he can feel in the back that it doesn’t even cover her ass) and traps the fabric between the index and middle fingers of each hand. He gives a sharp tug and grins up at her when she almost loses her balance before she rights herself and overcompensates by leaning forward until her hands land on his chest.

“You can take it off if you want,” she practically whispers, her voice hoarser than usual and a little raspy, “but I don’t think you do.”

He shakes his head at her and smirks at her grin of accomplishment when her prediction is confirmed, at the same time pushing his hands up just a little farther until they land on her hips. She gets this look like she knows exactly what he’s doing – and she probably does – just before he slides his hands around so that he’s cupping her ass. He kneads the flesh in his hands once before using his grip to pull her forward. He feels her hands slide up his chest and over his shoulders until they move down to press into the pillow beneath his head. Her eyes are locked on his, and just before their bodies press together, he stops pulling. It’s almost like a test, like he wants to see what she’s going to do if he’s not guiding her. She stops, too, just hovering over him, her nipples probably only a centimeter from his chest every time she inhales. She’s watching him, waiting for him, giving _him_ the control in their little game. He’s not surprised, really, not since she’s already made it clear that this is a treat for him.

Instead of pulling her down the rest of the way, he lifts his head to meet her, nipping at her bottom lip with his teeth once before he even truly kisses her. As soon as his teeth hit her skin, her lips part on a sigh and he can feel the pillow shift beneath him as her hands clench around it. His tongue sweeps into her mouth at the same time that he actually presses his lips to hers. His hands are still holding her ass firmly and he can feel her legs trembling just a bit, and he knows she’s waiting for him to pull her down against him, maybe kiss her a little harder. But that’s what she expects, so where’s the fun in that? Besides, she clearly wants him to be in charge, and how much control can he _really_ have when she’s on top? So he slides one hand down her leg a little and pushes the other up to rest in the middle of her back and in almost the same movement he flips them so he’s pinned her to the bed, his body pushing hers down into the mattress.

He just laughs when she squeals like he’s scared her then instantly covers her mouth with one hand, mindful of Kurt sleeping on the other side of the studio apartment. He lowers his voice to a register that he’s pretty sure makes her wet all by itself and leans in to almost whisper in her ear, “You’re gonna have to try harder than that if you plan on bein’ quiet tonight.” Her hands fly up to grip his back and her nails bite into the back of his shoulder as he licks a stripe from her ear down to the pulse starting to throb at the base of her neck. She’s starting to get worked up already and he’s a little torn between hiking that little skirt up around her hips and driving into her and going as slow as he possibly can, drawing it out just to drive her crazy.

Apparently, though, she’s starting to get impatient, even if she does seem to want to let him lead. Because while one hand stays on his back, the pads of her fingers tracing lightly over the half-moon indentations he knows her nails have made, the other trails around his ribs and down his stomach until her fingers dip into the front of his briefs. His hips jut forward, pushing into her hand, when she just grazes his head. Her fingers wrap around him and pump once, twice, before she lets him go again. He pulls his mouth away from her and drops his head to her shoulder. If she’s trying to kill him, she’s succeeding. But then he decides things could be worse, because she hooks her hand over the waistband of his underwear and starts to tug.

She’s not gonna get this done on her own. She’s just not. She’s tiny and he’s on top of her and she’s already pretty much pulled as far as she can and his underwear are still caught around the tops of his thighs. So he latches his mouth onto the underside of her jaw, sucks for a couple seconds then darts his tongue out to smooth over the spot, then pushes himself off her to stand just next to the bed. He’s got his underwear at his feet in about a second and it’s even less time than that before he’s back in the bed with her. She hikes one leg high on his hip as he’s getting settled and he grabs her ankle as he watches her face while he shifts his hips so that his dick lays in the line of her wet heat. He watches her face – he always watches her face, as much as he can, when they’re doing this – and he sees her eyes roll back a little in her head at the contact. He slides his free hand behind her neck and pulls her up to meet him as he leans in for a kiss. She’s practically panting as she kisses him back and he can feel her chest pressing up against his as he slides his tongue over hers, along the roof of her mouth, across her lips. He’s pretty sure he’s got her sufficiently distracted with his mouth and the way his hips occasionally grind into hers, making his dick slide through her folds (but not inside her, not yet), so he drags his hand from her ankle all the way up her calf then even farther, up her thigh until the bottom of her skirt is hitting his fingertips. He grinds into her a little harder as he rubs the material between his thumb and forefinger. He almost can’t fuckin’ believe she did this for him. It’s hands down the hottest thing he’s ever been a part of.

She pulls back and drops her head to the pillow behind her, lets out a whimper that sounds almost like his name. He knows what he’s doing. He’s not inside her. He’s not touching her clit, aside from maybe brushing against it with his head now and then. But he’s doing enough to drive her crazy, and if he didn’t know that just because he knows _her,_ the wetness that now coats him would be proof enough.

“Please,” she finally whines, her eyes squeezed shut and her neck straining. He loves her like this, a thin sheen of sweat just starting to coat her skin, her hands fluttering around him because she’s not quite sure where she wants them to land, her hair a mess of curls framing her face. He loves it mostly because he knows he’s the only one who’s ever really seen her like this (if for no other reason than because back when she was with Finn she wore her hair straight with that curtain of bangs that fell just above her eyes, and maybe that’s a technicality, but whatever). He loves that because even if they’re not really labeling their … whatever they have, yet, there’s one label he’s perfectly comfortable putting on her, and that’s, ‘ _mine_.’

She whimpers again, louder and almost desperate, when he pulls away and starts to slide down her body. His one hand doesn’t let go of her skirt, just balling it up a little when he grips her hip, but the other slides out from behind her neck and down the front of her chest until he’s cupping her boob, squeezing it a little before letting his fingers dance over the nipple. Without warning he drops his mouth onto the other, sucking hard and causing her to thrust her chest up toward him. He’s working her boobs over, sucking and nibbling on one, rolling the nipple of the other between his thumb and fingers, when he finally lets go of her hip. He’s pretty sure she didn’t notice (she might be going through a little sensory overload right now) so he bypasses the slow, teasing touches and just pushes two fingers inside her. His thumb finds her clit and traces slow circles around it as he pumps his fingers slowly in and out of her.

He’s always had awesome reflexes, and he knows how she’s gonna react to that, so at the same time that he pushes the fingers of one hand into her, he brings the other hand to her mouth, pressing his palm over it and muffling the moan she lets out. “I told ya,” he practically growls against her chest, “I’m gonna make ya work harder than that.” Honestly, Rachel’s not even nearly as loud as he’d expected her to be. (Yeah, he’d thought about that. For a long ass time, actually.) He’d expected her to be a screamer, or at least a talker. And she’s far from silent, and she does talk some, usually at the beginning  like she thinks she needs to set the mood or something (for the record, he’s basically always in the mood when he’s with her), but it’s not what he expected. And he digs that. He likes that she surprises him when it comes to things like that. Still though, the apartment’s stupidly small, and there’s not even an actual wall separating them from Kurt, so her goal is usually to stay as quiet as possible, and his is not to let her. (Like he cares if Kurt hears them. Thinks it’s fuckin’ hilarious, actually.)

He picks up the pace with the hand that’s working her into a frenzy and moves the other one off her mouth and onto the bed beside her, using his arm to bear his weight so he doesn’t crush her. He pushes himself up to drop a few quick kisses to her lips just because it’s really hard not to kiss this girl when she’s like this. Any time, actually, but especially when she’s like this. He’s halfway back to that boob he abandoned when he feels her hand start moving down his arm from his bicep until she’s gripping his wrist, pulling his fingers out of her.

“St-stop,” she pants, and he just tilts his head to look up at her like she’s crazy. At this moment, as far as he can tell, she is.

“You don’t mean that,” he tells her, holding his hand up in the light from the window and turning it from side to side so that she can see the wetness glistening on his fingers. He sees the way she stares, so he brings them to his mouth slowly, darting his tongue out to lick up the inside of his index finger before he pushes both of them past his own lips and sucks them clean. Under any other circumstances, he knows, she’d be telling him how crude he is, but right now her pupils dilate and her eyes grow black as coal and no matter what she says (she’s not saying anything, actually, and he thinks that in itself is a pretty awesome sign) he knows she’s about as horny as she’s ever been. He’s not exactly far behind her either. He was hard the second he saw her on the bed like she had laid herself out for him on a silver platter.  When she showed off her little surprise, his balls actually started to ache a little. But now, with her panting and sweating beneath him and the taste of her on his tongue, if he doesn’t get some relief soon, he is legit going to cry. And he is not a pussy, but shit. So this ‘stop’ business, he’s never gonna force her to do anything she don’t wanna do, but he’s gonna need an explanation here. For real.

“I do.” She nods, like that’s going to make him think she actually wants it. “I want -,” she stops because he bites down on her nipple, and it’s not hard, not hard enough to hurt, at least, but he’s gotten her attention. And his hand is already dancing over her ribs, well on its way back to where, in his opinion, it really belongs. “I want to try something different.” He stops at that, pulls his head back to stare at her. He’s not exactly sure what she means by ‘different,’ but the way this night is going, he has no doubt it’s gonna be good, _really_ fuckin’ good, for him.

“Yeah?” She nods and all he can do is smirk back at her. “Well let’s hear it then.”

She looks up at him, bites her lip a little, and he recognizes that same kinda worried look from before. And again, she’s grown up a lot since high school, learned a lot of things about herself, and he knows she knows how hot she is and how sexy he finds her, but those things, those insecurities she spent 18 years developing, don’t just go away over night (or a few months, in this case). He really wants to hear whatever it is she’s gonna ask for, but more than that he wants her to be comfortable asking him for it. He presses a kiss to her cheek then whispers against it, “C’mon baby, whaddaya want? Betcha I’m gonna say yes. Prob’ly want it too.”

She stares at him for a second longer before pushing at his chest to get him to move off her. He doesn’t like where this is going as he settles onto his side next to her, but then she rolls over onto her stomach and turns her head so she’s just blinking at him from over her shoulder. Fuck. Is she serious?

“Fuck baby, you serious?”

She nods twice, her eyes still big and blinking back at him, then pushes herself up onto all fours. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Damn girl, you’re tryin’ to kill me.” At first he doesn’t move from where he is at her side except to lean up and push a hand into her hair, tangling it around his fingers and pulling her down to slam his mouth onto hers. For the first time since she’d crawled over top of him with her surprise barely covering the parts of her he wanted most to get to, she takes just a little bit of the control. She pushes back. She drives her tongue into his mouth, nips at his lips. He doesn’t break the kiss, rough and hard and aggressive as it is, as he rises to his knees. He doesn’t pull away from her until he has to, until he’s on his knees and moving to get into position behind her. It crosses his mind that he’s never been asked for this before. Yeah, he’s done it. Plenty of times. But all the other times he’d just told the girl what he wanted, or moved her until he got her where he wanted her. (Or, with Santana, she just flat-out told him he was gonna give it to her doggie style. He always followed her orders, just ‘cause he knew the alternative was being cut off altogether, and he wasn’t down for that.) Rachel’s the first girl to ask him, even if it was without words, if he’d bend her over and take her from behind. Yeah, she’s definitely trying to kill him.

“You know this is, shit, you are the hottest damn thing on the planet, you know that, right?” He growls when her only response is to push her hips back toward him. He’s so so glad they had the birth control conversation way back when they first started this thing – she’s on the pill, for the record, and he got himself tested every six months right up until the last time about a month after he came to New York (and he guesses he doesn’t really need to do that anymore, so that’s cool) – because he might just die if he had to move at all to get a condom. “Are you gonna take care of you?” That’s really important to him, actually. As much as he’s really, really gonna enjoy this, he’s not gonna be able to enjoy it nearly as much if he doesn’t think she’s getting just as much out of it as he is.

“No,” she tells him, and he _swears_ she’s actually wiggling her ass, “you are.”

 _Fuuuck_. He’d actually planned on doing this kinda slow. He was gonna take his time, tease her a little, savor the way it felt when he slid into her like this. After that, there’s no way. He grabs her hips over her skirt, the slightly rough material chafing his palms. He takes about a second to judge their positions and make sure he’s lined up properly before pulling her swiftly back onto him until her ass is pressed to his pelvic bone. She squeaks when he bottoms out in her and it just spurs him on.  He pulls out to the tip then thrusts his hips again and uses his grip on hers to pull her back so that that he slams into her almost as hard as the first time. He keeps it up, tightening his grip on her hips to brace her every third thrust or so when he drives himself into her with all he’s got.

He hasn’t forgotten what he told her – well, she told him actually, but honestly, that’s even better – he’d do for her. He slows down, finds a rhythm that almost has him seeing stars but isn’t so fast or so hard that he worries about driving her headfirst into the wall, and moves his right hand along her pitiful (fuckin’ awesome) excuse for a skirt until it stops about three inches south of her belly button. He doesn’t even touch her and he hears her draw in a long, shuddering breath. His fingers move slowly, tracing small circles that grow bigger and venture closer to her clit with every pass. At the same time, he pushes his other hand up her spine until it’s at the base of her neck and gathers her hair into a ponytail that he wraps tight around his fist. He leans over her until his chest rests against her back and drops his mouth just beside her ear.

“S’is okay, baby?”

A moan works its way out of her throat and she drops her head forward to nod. He absolutely does not miss the shiver that runs down her back when the movement forces her hair to pull against his hand. Yeah, it’s more than okay.

He drops a kiss, then another, then a third, onto her shoulder then keeps going, over to her spine and down as far as he can as he pulls himself back up off her. By the time he’s upright again, his back straight and his knees digging into the mattress with every thrust, he’s pulling her hair, keeping her neck arched and her head back, and the fingers of the other hand are rubbing over her, pressing against her nerves in a random pattern that keeps her constantly on edge.

This is incredible. That’s really the only word her can come up with, and even that’s a struggle. But fuck, it makes sense, okay? Because he looks down and all he can see is her hair wrapped around his hand and the smooth, taut expanse of her back, the line broken only by the strip of plaid that’s gotten pushed up around her hips as he pistons himself in and out of her (and he can see that too, and it’s enough to make him have to close his eyes for a couple seconds here and there). All he hears are the sounds coming out of her throat and her chest – the moans every time he grinds his hips against her ass when he’s inside her as deep as he can be, his head pressing against that spot that makes her breath catch, the whimpers every time he gives her hair a tug and pulls her head back a little farther for just a second. All he feels is hot and tight and wet – wet surrounding his dick and under his fingers as they rub and circle and press against her.

Shit. This isn’t gonna work. No, that’s not right. It is working. It’s working way too fuckin’ good, cause there’s no way he’s gonna be able to outlast her. Not like this. And really, he can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed or whatever, because it’s just that good. _She’s_ just that good. That doesn’t mean he’s not gonna take care ‘a her though. He don’t play that way. So he speeds up, pushes his hips against her harder, desperate, and it’s barely three more thrusts before he’s ripping himself from her, ignoring her breathy plea of, “No!” then pushing forward again so that the hot stream that comes shooting out of him without him even touching himself lands on the small of her back, just above her sinful little skirt.

His left hand stays tangled in her hair, pulling so that her neck is strained, but the moans she releases are far from pained. He drags his right hand off her sex and onto her hip because he knows he has a tendency to grab and squeeze and practically hold on for dear life when he lets go. He’s actually left bruises on her thighs before (and he felt shit awful about that until she assured him she was fine and it didn’t even actually bother her, that she thought there was something hot about seeing those bruises when she was in the shower, remembering how they got there and the power she’d had over him in that moment) and he is _not_ about to hurt her there.

When he’s completely spent, he gently pulls her hair over one shoulder before letting it go and combing his fingers through it a few times. He uses both hands to smooth her skirt down over her hips so that it covers as much of her ass as the length will allow then rests his hands on the waistband with his fingers stretched across the front of her abdomen and his thumbs tracing soft circles on her sides. He starts to push, and when she looks over her shoulder at him, a little questioning, he just smiles at her and pushes a tiny bit harder until she gets the idea and lowers herself onto the bed on her stomach. Once she’s flat on the mattress he climbs over her leg and off the bed. He leans down and presses a kiss to her spine right between her shoulder blades, moving up until he kisses the back of her neck.

“I got you baby,” he almost whispers against her skin. “Be right back.”

He looks around the room, but it’s too dark to really see anything and the only thing he knows for sure is that his clothes are a few steps away by the dresser. He’s not about to head out to the bathroom for a towel or a washcloth, so he heads for the pile instead. He fishes his t-shirt out from the bottom of the pile and spreads it across his palm as he heads back to the bed. He sits right on the edge and leans over her so his ribs are across her ass, his elbow beside her hip bracing his weight. With his other hand, he uses the soft cotton of his shirt to wipe the mess he made (with plenty of help from her) off her skin. He lays the shirt on her back, clean side down, and carefully folds it in half before dragging it across the small of her back again. He repeats the action, taking a third pass at her, before sitting back up and balling the shirt up tight so that only clean parts remain on the outside and carefully putting it on the floor on the other side of the nightstand. He’ll deal with that in the morning.

“Roll over baby,” he turns his body and pulls his leg up onto the bed, nudging her with his knee when she doesn’t immediately comply.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she tells him once she’s on her back and staring up at him, her fingers running up and down the front of his calf, playing a little with the hair on his leg.

He’s confused because for a second he thinks she’s talking about cleaning her up and that’s bullshit. Of course he did. That’s just like, common courtesy or something, and she definitely deserves that and plenty more. But as he’s thinking that he realizes that no, she would definitely expect him to do that for her. (And she should.) So then that means she’s saying he didn’t have to pull out, that he could’ve finished inside her. And yeah, that’s what he usually does (at this point he doesn’t remember the last time he came and wasn’t surrounded by ‘warm and wet,’ whether it was from her pussy or her mouth), but all those other times he’s already gotten her to the finish line. This time was a different story. Yeah, it was her ‘surprise’ for him or whatever, but his job’s not done until she’s crying out his name, squirming and writhing and clenching beneath him.

“Sure I did,” he tells her, leaning down to kiss her softly. She sighs against him and he knows how much she likes this. She told him from the beginning that she’s not a porcelain doll and that she doesn’t want to be treated like one, and she’s proven to him a few times over that she can hold her own when the situation gets a little rough (he wasn’t exactly gentle on her hair just now), but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t like it a little sweet sometimes too. She especially seems to like it when he jumps from one to the other, when he surprises her.

He kisses her for a couple whole minutes, his lips nipping at hers, his tongue darting out to tease and trace the lines of her mouth now and then but never pushing through, then finally drags his mouth over to her cheek then across her jaw and down the side of her throat. He picks up the intensity again when he hits her collarbone, playful little bites starting to mix in with the warm kisses. His hands are pressed into the mattress on either side of her and she’s got her own gripping his biceps as he makes his way down her body. It’s not until after paid some attention to her boobs and is almost to her belly button that he finally says, “If I hadn’t, I couldn’t do this.” He doesn’t specify what ‘this’ is, but he figures it’s pretty clear from the way he circles his tongue around her belly button then licks a line down, over her pubic bone and to the very top of her slit. Based on the way her nails dig into his skin, she gets it.

He pulls his face away from her just enough that he’s not touching her as he lowers himself all the way down to her entrance. She spreads her legs without him saying anything and he knows how bad she wants him to make her come. It’s not like he’d doubted it, but still, the proof is always nice. She’s insanely wet, and in the little light in the room he can see her glistening. He can smell her. He pushes his tongue past her folds and licks one long stripe all the way up, flicking the tip of his tongue over her clit when he gets to the top. Her hands fly off his arms and one lands on the back of his head, scratching for a grip on his short hair, and the other falls to squeeze the comforter between her fingers. He leaves the one on his head alone; he loves the feel of her holding him to her, pushing him closer. His own hand reaches for the other, tangling their fingers together as he repeats the action with his tongue. She whimpers and pushes herself up toward his face.

He knows he could drag this out, keep it going until she’s actually crying. (He’s done it before, one day not long after they started this thing, when Kurt was back in Lima for the weekend and they had absolutely nothing to do for an entire Saturday.) It seems a little unfair though, since he got his so quick and she was awesome enough to do all this for him. So he uses his free hand to push her thigh up onto his shoulder until he feels her heel digging into his back then slides his hand down the back of her leg. He barely grazes his fingers across her ass because he knows it tickles and it’ll make her squirm. It does, and he smirks, right before he plunges two fingers deep inside her. She gasps, even jumps a little when he does it. He doesn’t give her time to adjust though, pressing his mouth against her and circling her clit with his tongue. A long, low moan comes out of her and she squeezes his hand with hers and uses the other to press him even tighter against her.

She’s close already (he has a feeling she has been since cried for him not to pull out of her) and when he pumps his fingers a little faster, curls them inside her so that he’s hitting that awesome spot of hers in time with his tongue flicking over her, she digs her heel in a little deeper and flattens her foot so that her toes curl against the top of his ass.

“Oooh,” she keens, “Noah, please.” It’s not loud, but the sound echos in his ears as if she’d screamed it.

“Come on baby,” he whispers against her, and something about that makes her shiver. “Just let go for me, Rachel.”

His fingers keep up their movements but his tongue slows so that instead of flicking it’s tracing almost lazy circles. But after only a few seconds, before she has a chance to get used to that movement, he flattens his tongue against her, sliding it over her clit just once then puckering his lips around it and sucking. Hard. She squeaks in surprise or pleasure or some combination of the two and bucks her hips up toward his face. It’s his turn to moan because that shit, those awesome responses of hers when he gets her good, always gets _him_ good. She seems to like that, because with her hips still arched up off the bed and her sex pressed to his mouth, she wiggles her hips. That only causes his lips to pull harder against her and that has her breathing heavy, panting and letting out these little mewling noises with each breath. He knows she’s ready and he’d honestly feel guilty if he didn’t make it happen for her as soon as he can. So he pushes his fingers in, all the way up to the third knuckle, and leaves them there, curling and uncurling them inside her, sometimes together, sometimes one at a time, to rub against all her favorite spots. He keeps his lips closed around her and strokes her with his tongue, starting slow but quickly picking up speed until he’s moving his tongue over her as fast as he can and he can feel her leg starting to tremble where her thigh rests on his shoulder.

He can feel her tightening around his fingers so he gives her one more good, hard, suck and presses harder against her with his tongue. She lasts maybe a second before her nails are digging into the back of his hand, the other hand holding his head tight against her, and her muscles are fluttering around his fingers. She doesn’t make much noise when she falls apart around him – she never does – but if you ask him, the deep, heavy breaths and quiet whimpers of ‘ _Noah’_ that escape from her are way better than high pitched, probably over exaggerated whines and screams.

He doesn’t ease up on her until she’s gone limp, her hand sliding off the back of his head to rest on his cheek and her leg hanging off his shoulder. When that happens, he gives her one last soft kiss, letting his lips barely graze her slit, and slides his fingers out of her. His hand still holds tight to hers as he crawls up her body, bending her arm along with his so that their hands end up resting beside her head on the pillow and his weight is supported by his forearm when he’s hovering over her. He watches her face while he brings his other hand up to his mouth, licking his fingers clean. It’s the second time in one night, and even though it’s dark, he swears he sees her blushing. He smirks at what he still considers to be her innocence, though he has plenty of evidence that she’s not quite innocent anymore, and lowers himself so that he’s on top of her but still supporting most of his own weight. She wraps her free arm around him and runs her fingers softly up and down his spine and he ducks his head to kiss her right behind her ear. Her chest rises and falls under his and the breaths are still a little jagged, heavy and uneven.

“That was amazing,” she tells him, her eyes glued to his face and a content little smile on her face.

“Just returnin’ the favor, babe,” he promises.


End file.
